Sonnets originally published in Mojave He[art]

Nymphette 

The truth is pictures on the internet,

draconian digits I should forget, 

a fuzzy innocence, apricot wet.

Decade, by face, erased with loss, regret.

A smeared rainbow party tenacity,

what shame heart shades should hide you see 

in glossy cinnamon veracity. 

A teeny heart inside flesh post 30.

The proof is petulance, a pout teenage,

a xxx teaser on and offstage,

a feral frolic, lollipop, uncaged. 

A bubblegum ebullience doesn’t age.

Can’t stretch the math to make me a nymphette.

Atop a lap, everyone forgets.

A Mermaid Abandoning The Titanic 

who loved you three of four nights, your lean,

illuminated by ten thousand lights,

towards me, precariously.   I preen, 

guardrail, against your walnut vest, a sight 

I fight ice, current, chase this ship toward

three nights of April bliss, before at last 

a kiss I do not feel just see — hard 

a starboard, her lips a vivisection halves

humanity from me.  All animal 

what swims betrayed to iceberg eyes, white beard,

refracted gold upon a chest, controls

a crash until, like love, I disappear.

Three nights I was your mistress in the sea. 

Fourth night is drowning.  I won’t stay to see. 

sonnets originally published in Moonchild Magazine

Kristin Garth is a Pushcart, Best of the Net & Rhysling nominated sonnet stalker. Her sonnets have stalked journals like Glass, Yes, Five:2:One, Luna Luna and more. She is the author of seventeen books of poetry including Pink Plastic House  (Maverick Duck Press), Crow Carriage (The Hedgehog Poetry Press), Flutter: Southern Gothic Fever Dream (TwistiT Press), The Meadow (APEP Publications) and Golden Ticket forthcoming from Roaring Junior Press.  She is the founder of Pink Plastic House a tiny journal and co-founder of Performance Anxiety, an online poetry reading series. Follow her on Twitter:  (@lolaandjolie) and her website kristingarth.com